Skip to main content

THE PROWLER : SONNET 161

THE PROWLER
It looks to be that I will die today;
And it did yesterday, the day ere that:
I have been dying -- day-to-day replay --
Long since my life demurely doff'd its hat
Before the all bemusing doubt of living, 
That however I contrive my faith,
It gives in to the doubt that's so imposing, 
To be abandon'd at the mercy of death.
Which route can I, however, hope to carve out?
The siege by shortfalls, sharks, ill health, affliction 
Is standing strong and age in early rout,
And they have held me tight to life's decision...
But know not why the prowler does not prowl, 
As life does stagger on, bereft of soul.
-- N P Samal 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

KISS ME, PLEASE!

Woo-hoo...! Kisss you...u...u...u...??? Oh, I'm being frenzical !!! My slavering tongue is jerking fast And my quivering lips are pouting out With booms of kisses in the air -- Ummah...! Ummah...! Ummah...! Just yesterday, an okay got my promise. Today is the chance no way to miss. And ready is my basket with pecks, Lip-locks, French kisses, and other varieties... I'm also ready for the lizard kiss, And the kiss of the Spider man... And I'm sure I won't beg like Big B  -- (Juma, chumma de de chumma...), This is my right to kiss I earn'd this week. I shall kiss like one Dhoom 2's Hritthik-Aash's, Although I envy Emraan's 'Murderous' thriller kiss... I'm ready with my balmy lips, Strawberry flavour'd,  To be the biggest smoocher  Of do hazaar chhabees... And I have hidden the cracks  On my wintry lips  To save from rashes My Valentine's softy cheeks... Well with flushed up teeth, With cleaned up tongue, With exotic ...

THE CHILDREN OF GAZA

                 The Children Of Gaza                               A Blank Verse Thundering in the sky, then rain of missiles... See how they are fleeing arms outstretched  Like the broken wings of storm-hit birds, And see their faces white with fear and hunger And hear their throbbing voice of pain and loss... Over their head, the sky's no kites, no clouds, But fire and fire amidst engulfing smoke, And they are running like the Napalm girl  From Vietnam or standing frozen, like The standing boy from Nagasaki, before Their elders who are whispering in fear Or staring helpless in the gauge of Death... They are the hapless children caught in the war zone. They have no home, no school, no ground of freedom, But sole refugee camps and hospitals  If marching death has spared them of their life. They hear not bedtime tales but sirens of death.  For them,...

THE RETURN : RHYME 100

                    The Return                                   Rhyme 100 Infants gambol about their home With blooms and toys, But they return to mom's bosom For the real joys. Children frolic about the streams, In meads and hedges, But to their home they return for Their real flowerage. Youths do rush about crazy for World's whole treasure, But they return for real living To own life and career.  Adults get sunk into the labour With dedication, But this's the return to raise well Their own children.  The old trudge about the yard Of their nursing shed, But lastly they return for rest To their death bed. ©️ N P Samal